


Ouroboros

by neednot



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut, post- "Never Again"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8645059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neednot/pseuds/neednot
Summary: “Why were... why were you with him?”The hurt in his voice is plain. Aching, and it just makes her angrier. She arches an eyebrow. “I thought you could figure that out, Mulder.”





	

Darkness settles over the basement like a fog; not a literal darkness, but a metaphorical one, borne of anger and jealousy and too much time away.

She knows she should go home. Wash off this weekend and the memories of Ed Jerse and the hurt way Mulder’s been looking at her since she got back, a way she’s rarely seen on his face and one she can barely stand. But something—pride, stubbornness—keeps her rooted to her desk chair. She’ll be damned if she’s the first one to leave, the one to give Mulder that satisfaction.

And yet it’s getting late, and she’s tired.The rational part of her knows she needs to go home. The stubborn part insists she stay, try to patch things over with him. She knows him mentioning Arlington was a peace offering. She wonders if there even is a case there, or if it was just an effort on his part to get her to talk.

She hasn’t since the hospital, not really. Hasn’t told him about being with Jerse or about the tattoo on her lower back, about any of it.

Then again, it’s not like he’s asked.

She stands and prepares to leave, straightening her jacket, her skirt. His head snaps up at her movement, and he opens his mouth. “Scully?”

“Mm?” She turns so she doesn’t have to see his face fall at her cold tone.

“Why were... why were you with him?”

The hurt in his voice is plain. Aching, and it just makes her angrier. She arches an eyebrow. “I thought you could figure that out, Mulder.”

She turns to leave again, her hand on the doorknob when he says—

“Did you sleep with him?”

A laugh escapes her throat before she can stop it, cold and bitter.

“What do you care?” she asks, turning and walking back towards his desk. “So what if I did? What, you think I slept with him to make you jealous? Not everything is about you,” she says, echoing herself from earlier. She hasn’t seen him like this since two years ago, since her date with that man—she doesn’t even remember his name now. Jealous. Possessive. Like there’s something between them to be possessive over.

“What do you care, Mulder?” she says again, a challenge in her voice this time.

He looks up at her. His voice is rough when he speaks. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I care about you.”

“I don’t even have a _desk_ ,” she growls.

“Because I like you being close to me.” He stands, shaking his head in frustration as he walks towards her. “Scully, I—thinking of someone else’s hands on you, I—”

“You what?” She tilts her chin up, defiant.

He shakes his head. “Never mind,” he says, but he won’t look at her.

“Jealous?” she says, but her heart is pounding as she says it.

“No.”

“Should I describe it for you, then? How he kissed me? What it felt like to have him inside of me? Obviously, since it doesn’t bother you.”

His hands twitch by his sides.

“Does it bother you, Mulder?” she asks, so quiet he has to lean in to hear her. “Do you want me to make you jealous?”

He kisses her. Crushes his lips to hers, his body against her.

She has waited for this moment for so long. He is nothing like Jerse. Feels nothing like Jerse. There is no trembling unfamiliar passion. She has known him since they met. Known the way his body will fit against hers, if only instinctually.

“Mulder,” she gasps. “Mulder—“

“How did he touch you?” He says, his lips hovering by her ear.

“What?” Her voice trembles.

“Show me,” he says, his voice as cold as hers was, and he pulls back from her and leaves her aching. “Show me how he touched you. _Where_ he touched you. You wanted to describe it for me, Scully?”

She shudders, a secret thrill running through her.

“He touched me here,” she says, her hands moving to her blouse, undoing the top button as he watches her hungrily. “He took… he took my blouse off.”

His hand ghosts over her breast. “What about here?”

“Under my bra, yes,” she says. “But it wasn’t...”

“What?”

“He wasn’t rough enough,” she says.

“You like it rough, Scully?”

“He didn’t call me that. He called me Dana,” she says, taking a secret pleasure at the way the frown on his face deepens.

“Do you want me to touch you there?” he asks.

His voice sends a shiver down her spine. She can’t even reply. Her hands tremble as she reaches around to unhook her bra. And then she is standing before him, topless, and it takes all his self control not to just fuck her right there.

His hands roam lightly over her breasts, and she tips her head back and moans, exposing her throat.

“Like this?”

“Harder,” she breathes. Whimpers.

He doesn’t obey. His hands slide lower down her thigh, to the edge of her skirt.

“Did he touch you here?”

“Yes,” she says.

“With his hand, or his mouth?”

“Both,” she says.

Christ, this is making him hard.

“Did you like it?”

“Mulder...”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” she says.

“Did he go down on you?”

“Yes.”Her voice is barely a whisper.

He bends down.

“Touch yourself like he did,” he says.

Slowly, she hikes up her skirt, rubs small circles on her inner thighs, moaning. Her hands drift towards the apex between her legs but he grabs her wrists, and she gasps. She bites her lip in that way that drives him mad. He wants to bury his face in between her thighs, but he can’t. Not yet.

“Did he touch you over your clothes?” he asks.

“Under.”

He doesn’t have to say it. She slips a hand into her underwear and moans.

“That isn’t showing me,” he says, watching her hand still. There is no protest from her as he yanks her underwear down, moves so she can step out of it, watches her hand go back to circling her clit. Her breath comes in short gasps, sounds he’s waited millennia to hear from her.

“Did you come for him?” he asks quietly.

Her only response is a whimper.

_“Did you?”_

“Yes,” she says, sucking in a breath.

He can barely take it, watching her. But he needs this, needs to put her through this to purge the image of her with another man out of his mind. “I want you to come for me, _Dana_ ,” he says.

She moans. “Mulder I can’t, I need you—”

“What?”

“Fuck me please,” she says. “You’re not him, please, I need you—” Her hand moves faster on her clit, a moan escaping her throat. “Mulder please—”

“Why should I?”

Oh but he wants to, but he wants to hear her say it.

“I want you,” she whimpers. “I—I need you inside me I need you to mark me like I’m yours, please—ah!”

He buries his face between her legs, licking—god but she is so wet. He savors the taste of her, this moment, because he knows Ed Jerse couldn’t make her feel like this. She tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls him to her, gasping his name.

“ _Mulder—_ ” She cries out as she shudders, her thighs tightening around him as she comes.

He gently licks a few times before withdrawing from her and coming up to kiss her. The taste of her on his tongue is making him even harder. Her chest heaves as she draws in. Breath, her eyes heavy-lidded.

“Did he make you come like that?” he asks.

There’s a challenge in her eyes when she looks at him. “No,” she says. “But he made me come more than once.” Her gaze strays to the desk, the very one she complained about not having. Wordlessly without prompting, he turns her around, bending her over it. It takes him no time at all to undo his zipper. He nudges her legs apart with his knee, admires how wet she is, teasing her opening. His hands slide around her waist and nudge up her shirt, exposing the tattoo.

“Did you get this with him?” he asks, his voice low.

“Yes.”

He stares. Lightly runs his fingers over the colors, the clean lines of the snake, and watches as she shudders beneath him.

“It’s still a little raw,” she says.

He presses in harder and she gasps.

“Ow, Mulder, that—that _hurts_.”

But there’s a trembling in her voice as she says it, a trembling he knows isn’t caused by pain.

“Do you want me more than him?” he asks, bending over so his mouth is by her ear and his skin is rubbing against her tattoo, positions himself so he’s at her opening.

“That’s not fair,” she says.

“Do you?”

The silence, the waiting stretches between them.

“Yes,” she finally admits. “Yes.”

That’s all it takes. He enters her and she gasps as his hands tighten around her waist. There will be purple bruises there tomorrow and she doesn’t care, they’re a better mark than the ones left on her face by Ed Jerse. Mulder fills her in a way Ed didn’t. She’s still sensitive from her previous orgasm, and the edge of the desk is digging into her stomach, but she doesn’t care she doesn’t, because here is Mulder and he is fucking her and he is—and he is—

He grips her hard as he comes inside her, his full weight pressing on her as he moans. Her tattoo stings and burns and her head pounds but fuck if it isn’t the most delicious pain she’s ever felt. His chest heaves against her as he breathes, and before she can react he presses her head down to the desk, his free hand reaching around and circling her clit.

She comes only seconds after him, crying out his name, senses and thoughts and feelings blurred. They’re both panting and spent as he pulls out of her, and she slumps to her knees on the floor.

“What were you going to say?” she asks, looking at him after she’s had a chance to catch her breath. “Earlier.”

He settles himself beside her, kissing her. “That it’s my life, too,” he says. “That you’re mine, too.”


End file.
